


Appointment in Crime Alley

by Medie



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-09
Updated: 2010-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:43:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There's nothing this street could do to me that it hasn't already done."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appointment in Crime Alley

**Author's Note:**

> written for [](http://debc.livejournal.com/profile)[**debc**](http://debc.livejournal.com/)'s birthday. Not her girl!Bruce, one of my own creation (finally! take _that_ Batman!) but written especially for her. It was supposed to be more overtly Bruce/Rachel/Harvey, but at best things ended up more, muddled. Very, er, Bruce of her I suppose. Anyway, Happy Birthday, D! Hope you like it! Much thanks to [](http://angelsgracie.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelsgracie**](http://angelsgracie.livejournal.com/) and [](http://azarsuerte.livejournal.com/profile)[**azarsuerte**](http://azarsuerte.livejournal.com/) who both let me pick their brains about things. Title comes, btw, from the animated Batman series. I always loved the idea of Bruce's pilgrimage.

The darkness almost swallowed her whole. Harvey didn't know why he looked, but he did, and there she was, standing beneath a broken streetlight. Maybe she moved, maybe she didn't, but there she was. Devoid of all her trademark glitz and glamour, she was almost unremarkable. Hardly the queen of the Gotham City social scene that Bruce Wayne was supposed to be.

Which fit. Not much about Bruce Wayne did. So why not find her here? You didn't find society queens in Crime Alley, so of course he'd find her standing on the corner. Surrounded by officers and crime scene techs, Harvey frowned thoughtfully at the puzzle she presented. "What are you doing here?" he asked, voice soft.

Across the street, Wayne didn't answer, but she did watch. Her eyes roamed the activity with uncharacteristic intensity, watching every move, the squad car lights painting her face in eerie flashes of red and blue. A councilman's son dead in Crime Alley, there were a few gawkers and a smattering of press, but not as many as an uptown crime scene would score. Even in a city with a guardian bat, nobody wanted to risk it.

Nobody but Bruce Wayne and a few winos apparently.

Harvey watched her, nondescript in jeans and a black jacket, and tried comparing her to the Bruce Wayne he'd met. The sleek, sexy débutante panning politics and the Batwoman all the while with her tongue in a prima ballerina's ear. "One of these things is not like the other," he mused.

Abruptly, Wayne turned and vanished into the night. Harvey looked back at Bullock, the latest addition to the MCU, and shrugged. "Be back."

The portly detective's answer was a relieved grunt, but Harvey didn't stay to hear it. He took off at a trot, crossing the street in a few strides. At the corner, he slowed and peeked around. Wayne was a half dozen doors down, moving confidently, not looking to the right or the left. No fear.

She had to be insane or stupid. A woman like Bruce Wayne could never be anonymous in the city. There had to be a dozen people watching her right now, every single one of them with a different plan. Harvey looked back, wishing he'd brought a uniform with him. The woman was going to get herself shot, kidnapped, or worse and it was going to be his fault. He caught himself picturing telling Rachel and cringed.

Fuck. He wasn't going to let that happen. Rachel had been through enough lately. He didn't pretend to understand the friendship that existed between the two of them. Couldn't. He couldn't imagine two more different women, but that didn't change the fact they cared about each other. Didn't erase the possessive look in Bruce's eyes when she looked at Rachel, or the longing looks Rachel sent back when she thought no one was looking.

Bruce stopped and Harvey's train of thought derailed. He ducked into a doorway when she looked around, scanning the street with wary eyes. Harvey pressed back, the rough brick digging into his raincoat as he tried to wait her out. He didn't know why he was hiding, really, the woman was insane to be here. Alone. Where the fuck was that butler of hers? She couldn't be stupid. Harvey had figured out that much. Social butterfly or no, someone was pulling the strings at Wayne and that someone had to be Bruce.

Fox was a hell of an engineer, but Bruce was the real brains of the operation. She'd certainly been the one to organize the takeover and that left no doubt. Somewhere in there, behind the vapid smile and stupid socialite games was one hell of a businesswoman.

And didn't that just make absolutely no sense? Every time the woman opened her mouth, sheer idiocy came out of it, but still – She played the game better than anyone he'd ever seen and hell if he could pin that down. Especially not when he ran up against the Bruce of Rachel's childhood. Reconciling the the gap-toothed, smiling little girl in ripped jeans and a dirty t-shirt with the woman who'd sat across from him at dinner, smirking and embodying everything he hated about Gotham's 'royalty' was proving to be an almost impossible challenge.

He leaned forward, tilting his head around the corner, looking for her. She hadn't moved. Her gaze was on the pavement beneath her shoes and her face --

Calling her a riddle wrapped up in an enigma didn't even come close. Harvey watched, thunderstruck, as Bruce produced two red roses from her coat and went to her knees. She laid the roses before her and rested her hands on her thighs. She looked lost and Harvey finally got it.

Crime Alley. Bruce Wayne. Oh _fuck_.

He slumped back against the wall, closing his eyes against the intimate moment playing out before him. The woman was visiting --

Her parents had died here.

No, correction, she had watched her parents die here and, maybe, the little girl from Rachel's pictures had died with them.

"Something I can do for you, Mr. Dent?" her voice, cool and collected, struck him like a lash. It was nothing like the playful, breathy version that Bruce presented to the world. This was rougher, throatier, and compelling as hell.

It, as much as anything, commanded his attention and Harvey opened his eyes to find her standing before him. That he hadn't heard her move, hadn't felt her approach, was lost in the wave of guilt. The Bruce Wayne standing before him was a stranger. She stared at him from red-rimmed eyes full of rage and grief, her lush lips pressed together in a straight line. Frozen by his guilt, he still found himself wondering if this woman was there all the time. Hidden behind the slick facade of designer suits and diamond earrings. "I, uh, I was -- "

"Following me, apparently."

"Well, yes, but not -- " Harvey shook his head. "I'm sorry, Ms. Wayne, I didn't -- " he smiled faintly. "I'm sure telling you I was concerned won't matter."

"More than you think, but less than you hope." Bruce folded her arms, almost hugging herself. He had the sense she was fighting herself, pushing and pulling herself back into the woman Gotham was used to seeing. He watched the battle play out, but wasn't sure who had won when she lifted her chin to say, "I'm sure you realize why I'm here."

"I'm starting to," Harvey looked past her, despite himself, taking in the sight of the roses on wet pavement. It had been raining off and on all night – made evidence gathering a bitch – and it had started again. Harder this time. As he watched the rain fall, battering the fragile petals, he breathed deep. "I didn't mean to intrude. Honestly, I didn't." He waved a hand. "With respect, a woman of your notoriety shouldn't be down here alone."

She smiled, a faint curl of her lip, and raised an eyebrow. "With _respect_, neither should the district attorney."

He grimaced. "Okay, so you've got a point there, but I – Am not going to finish that sentence." Harvey laughed. "All right, so neither one of us should be out here at night, satisfied?"

Bruce's features lightened, only just, and she shook her head. "No."

Despite her denial, Harvey still felt like some sort of victory had been won. There was something like approval in her eyes as she regarded him and he straightened underneath that scrutiny. "Well, neither one of us should be, and I'm sorry that I intruded, but I'm not sorry that I followed you either. You really _shouldn't_ be out here alone."

"I know," Bruce nodded, "I also don't care." She looked back at the roses as well, grief etching itself into her features. "There's nothing this street could do to me that it hasn't already done." She turned back to him. "You, however, are another story. Rachel would never forgive me if I let something happen to you."

He laughed.

She looked surprised. "I wasn't joking."

"Neither was I," Harvey said, "when I thought the same thing about you." Bruce laughed. Genuine. A glimpse of something he wasn't meant to see. What she would have been if none of this had ever happened. "Are you ever -- "

She looked at him. "What?"

He shook his head again. "I'm sorry, I have no idea, but -- " he shrugged. "Do you ever get to be you?"

She paled. He'd struck a nerve. "I'm sorry, Mr. Dent, but I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"Yeah, you do," he said. "Probably better than I do. You play a lot of roles, don't you, Bruce? A different woman for every situation. I just wondered, do you ever get to be _you_?" It was crazy to be suddenly so worried about a woman for whom he felt nothing but contempt, but there it was. He was.

Bruce smiled again, sunny, bright, and completely fake. The moment, whatever it had been, was gone. "All the time, Mr. Dent," she said, sugary sweet. "Who else would I be?"

"I wish I knew," said Harvey.

Laughing, she waved him off. "You should probably get back to your crime scene, Harvey. They'll be worried about you I'm sure."

A car pulled up behind her. Alfred. The man's timing was impeccable. The butler got out of the car, heading to open a door for her, but Harvey beat him to it with a look that begged privacy.

Not disguising his surprise, Alfred nodded and retreated to the driver's seat once more. There would be questions when they were gone, Harvey could see it in the man's eyes.

"Thank you," said Bruce, still smiling that smile.

He hated it. "For following you?"

She shrugged, graceful and elegant. "For being concerned. There are precious few gentlemen left in the world."

Harvey grinned. "I don't think I'd be one of them."

She tipped her head, playful. "For Rachel's sake I hope you're wrong."

"For Rachel I'll be a lot of things."

Bruce looked wistful. "Wouldn't we all."

He stepped back, but she caught his hand before he could go far. "Thank you, Harvey."

Her face was somber as she said it. No illusions. No games. Just the truth if he could just understand it. "I think I should be the one thanking you."

She slid onto the seat, looking up at him. Her eyes were somber as she said, "Don't be so sure."

He let the door close. "I am."


End file.
